London (part three)

Okay, so I wasn't able to find my red rain boots or red rain jacket in London, though it rained a ton while we were there. What gives? I saw red jackets, but they weren't waterproof. Really? I found one rain jacket that I loved, but it was 650 pounds. Seriously? I am not spending $1000 dollars on a coat. B was a good shopper with me as we ended up buying more for him than first anticipated, but when do we get to go shopping together without kids in tow? Close to never, so we took advantage of the super high priced stores. Yikes! The pound is just too strong for our taste. So we mustered a little restraint, but according to our credit card company, they red flagged our cards the day after we returned. I didn't think we bought that much!! I'm afraid to look... (and FYI, when I returned home, I looked online and bought both the boots and the jacket at (gasp!) Target of all places. $50 for both including tax, shipping, and a gift card I found while moving... from our wedding. Score!)

I did gain a few pounds while in London. I found the decadent waffles sold by street vendors to be rather addicting. Great for me, since I can use a few pounds, I mean kilos, but eating those delicious, sweet waffles around town was blissful. I'm not even sure how many I ate... and I don't care. :) Have you smelled sweet waffles among the scent of fresh rain? I seriously couldn't get enough and B even humored me and went on a mission to find them one day because I was craving them. Finally a nice lady escorted us to a waffle guy. Escorted. I must have looked desperate. It was worth it.

And then there was our show that we bought tickets beforehand online. We went to go see Wicked the night of our appointment because we figured: A. We would either need something to keep our mind off of the bad news or B. We would need somewhere to celebrate and C. That was the only one we could agree on. Thankfully, it was a celebration! We had tremendous seats and were even second guessing if we were in the right ones. We were pleasantly surprised with the show, though we were both worried after the first scene. I remember looking at B and saying, "Can you gag me with all this cheese please?" But then the singing and story (luckily) took off and, though it paused a few places for me to throw up a little in my mouth (figuratively), it ended up fantastic.

We saw Buckingham Palace and the parks in all the surrounding areas. They were beautiful! We thought it was a little strange that the guards were taking pictures with tourists, but it wasn't my family they were protecting, so shoot away. (photos, that is.) My sore aching feet can vouch for some serious walking.

I decided that living in London would be fun for a few reasons:

1. You get to drive on the other side of the road. (I was firmly corrected that it wasn't the "wrong" side of the road, but just the "other" side.) Note to self: Don't tick off the Taxi driver while he is trying to maneuver in traffic.

2. The waffles. Yes, they were that good. And the walking around everywhere just sheds off those waffle kilos.

3. How fun would it be to live in a place ruled by a queen? Doesn't it seem more like a fairytale? ... A place where real princesses live and don't have terrorists as brothers. Sounds kinda magical.

4. The people are very helpful and kind. We really felt that the English people are quite lovely and simply fab.

5. The language barrier is minimal. It is quite odd that, though they are speaking "English," I sometimes had to ask them to repeat themselves. They have a whole new vocabulary!! For example: trousers=pants, pants=underwear, boot=trunk of a car, chips=fries, crisps=chips, dummy=pacifier, cooker=stove, garden=yard, mad=crazy, pram=stroller, nappy=diaper, queue=line, and sweetie=candy. The best one was: rubber=eraser because when I asked for some "rubber boots" I got some snickers from the sales people. To them, I asked for a 'trunk eraser,' but what I thought that they thought I was referring to, after the snickers, were condoms (since I knew some people call them rubbers). She then explained herself to tell me that she actually thought I meant some sort of an eraser, and I felt even more dumb. They apparently call them "gumshoes." Nice one Monique. I can always embarrass myself, no matter what language I think I am speaking.